


three times is a charm

by crimsongravedigger



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, weddingplannerau
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 13:22:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7106578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsongravedigger/pseuds/crimsongravedigger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>luhan flies to south korea to plan his cousin’s wedding, unaware of the fact that old wounds are ready to bleed again, and that true happiness can’t exactly be planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	three times is a charm

**Author's Note:**

> hello this is text-me-luhan i hope you guys enjoy this story!! please leave a comment!

It’s Monday when Luhan wakes up with the sound of raindrops hitting the window glass echoing in his bedroom, a mess of limbs tangled in wrinkled white sheets and strands of hair defying gravity. He reaches for his cellphone on the nightstand with clumsy, lazy movements of his right hand- it’s half past five in the morning, and Luhan screeches ungracefully as the bright light burns holes into his corneas. He manages to stop his alarm twenty seconds before it can destroy his eardrums, his poor eardrums that a soft pillow is trying desperately to shield from any kind of unwanted noise. Luhan thinks he might be blind- black dancing dots decorate his vision as his index fingers rub his eyes to get rid of his sleepiness. Then, maybe because his stomach is as empty as it can be or perhaps because his bladder screams for release, Luhan decides to get up anyway. He stumbles on a polished pair of shoes on his way to the bathroom, soft curses under his breath and a light grey bowtie hanging from the door handle. He tosses the piece of silky fabric behind his back carelessly, not even watching as it lands on the floor along with the remaining parts of the suit he wore on Sunday. His fingers tease the wall sensually until they can finally find the light switch, and Luhan screeches again when his little toe smashes against the corner of his closet. He screeches when the cold water drowns him in the shower too, and he screeches once more when shampoo accidentally gets into his eyes. 

 

Luhan emerges alive from the bathroom with thick glasses on the tip of his button nose, bangs wrapped in a cute pink hairband and the taste of minty toothpaste on his tongue. He makes himself a quick but nutritious breakfast (is leftover Chinese food even considered as breakfast?) and feeds his two cats as well, greeting them both with a quick kiss on their little hairy heads. He turns on the television and watches his favorite anime, chopsticks digging in his bowl of microwaved rice, fresh soy sauce stains appearing on his t-shirt whenever he laughs with his mouth full. 

 

It’s seven o’clock when Luhan decides that work can’t wait anymore. He puts a heavy coat on his pajamas (even though it’s mid-April already) because changing clothes = more laundry, slips his converse on and he’s out. He doesn’t go that far actually; Yixing’s tiny café is right under his apartment, so he only has to walk for a few minutes before seeing his friend’s smile. The smell of crushed coffee beans makes Luhan’s eyes roll back in pleasure. 

 

“Americano?” Yixing is all dimples and sleepy eyes as he asks his old friend for his order. Luhan met the barista during his first year of high school, when he still had braces and a cheap Iron Man backpack. Luhan was playing soccer with some friends and he kicked the ball so hard that it hit Yixing in the head, but the latter just smiled and introduced himself (“Please let me take you to the hospital you’re bleeding” to which Yixing replied with a laid-back “What? I’m not bleeding, I’m Yixing. What’s your name?”). They became friends quickly and their bond lasted even after their senior graduation, which is a miracle in Luhan’s opinion, since his other ex-classmates don’t even wave at him nowadays.

 

“Americano” Luhan nods with the enthusiasm of a kid and fingers tapping impatiently on the counter. Yixing asks about Sunday, about his last date, about his family. Luhan has to blink a few times because even though he’s chatting with his best friend, it’s still Monday and it’s still too early for his brain to properly function. 

 

Eventually, after taking a few sips from his steaming cup, Luhan talks about the last wedding he organized. Even though he could go shopping with the bags under his tired eyes, a light always appears in his irises everytime he mentions his job. He says that the couple invited more or less the whole city, they requested thousands of red roses because the bride’s favorite color was deep red, they had a very specific idea for the wedding cake and they also wanted two bands playing during the celebration because apparently one wasn’t enough. The fact that Luhan collapsed on his bed at two am, limbs heavy and head heavier, doesn’t really matter, because the couple complimented his work for at least half an hour without stopping and they said that they would totally recommend him as wedding planner to all their friends. He left with pride in his chest and tears of joy pooling in the corner of his eyes.

 

“You love your job, don’t you?” Yixing smiles and he’s all dimples again, back resting against the coffee machine and a content expression lingering on his face.

 

“They were so in love, Xing, you should have seen them” Luhan replies as he shakes his head, fingers warming themselves around his cup and his glasses slightly fogged. He goes on and talks about the wedding dress, the buffet, lunch, the groom’s tuxedo, the djs, the flowers and only stops when his friend asks about his last date with this guy named Yifan. Ouch.

 

“He’s scary,” Luhan shivers, “his hands are bigger than my head” and he’s not even joking. 

 

Luhan has to leave because Yixing can’t stop laughing and he has work to do anyway, so he throws some coins on the counter and stomps outside with his fashionable outfit. He hides behind a column with a pale face when Yifan’s towering height catches his attention in the crowd, and he literally sprints away as soon as the giant crosses the road. They promised to go out again because after all Yifan enjoyed their date at the pub and Luhan, well Luhan just can’t say no to anyone, so he agreed.

 

When he’s safe and sound in his room, Luhan turns on his laptop and checks his e-mails. Most of them are from work, so he takes his time and makes sure he doesn’t skip any of them. There are e-mails from his clients, e-mails from companies, e-mails from people trying to sell some kind of stuff for erectile disfunction (wait. better ignore those ones) and there’s also an e-mail from his cousin living in South Korea. it’s not like Luhan doesn’t like his family- it’s just that he doesn’t have time. He doesn’t even have time to take care of himself, how is he supposed to take a break just to have a nice dinner with them? He seriously tries his best anyway- he calls his parents every two months, he sends birthday cards, he calls on birthdays and replies on every comment his relatives leave on his Facebook wall. 

 

He opens the e-mail anyway because Luhan is a good cousin and good cousins don’t ignore their other cousins, but the more he reads it, the more he can feel a headache coming. He sits more comfortably on the bed and sets the laptop aside, fingers quickly pressing numbers on his cellphone and a very uncomfortable feeling in his tummy.

 

 **to** : xingxing

_my cousin is getting married she asked me 2 organize the whole thing_

 

 **to** : luge

_which one?_

 

 **to** : xingxing

_the one living in s.k._

 

 **to** : luge

_nice!! send me a postcard from seoul! ^^ and send me pics too!!_

 

 **to** : xingxing

_i don’t want 2 go_

 

 **to** : luge

_don’t be a shitty cousin :(_

 

Luhan stares at the cellphone screen with dead eyes. He isn’t a shitty cousin, okay? He just doesn’t want to sit on a thing that flies in the sky- birds should do that, not big ass machines filled with tons of people. He could delete the e-mail, but that’s something a coward would do and knowing his cousin, by now the whole country knows that she’s getting married. He can’t escape his fate even if he tries, so he checks his planner anyway. Maybe he could reply that he’s busy, but family is family and it comes before work, so once again he finds himself turning pages of his notebook with a frustrated sigh. His cousin wants to get married in June, on the third, and Luhan grimaces when he finds out that the space next to that date (and around it) is blank. 

 

He decides to set it aside for now, almost sure that his cousin would understand. He needs his time to organize stuff and to prepare himself mentally and also to sort things out, which is just a lame excuse to hide the fact that no, he really doesn’t want to organize that particular wedding and he doesn’t have the strength to deal with this right now. He also doesn’t want to be the only cousin left who is still single, and he doesn’t want to spend so much time away from home. 

 

Luhan has been to Seoul before; back when he was still in university, both his cousin Mei and him decided to study foreign languages together because honestly it seemed like something cool to do. They packed their suitcases a month after graduation and landed in Seoul with wide, happy grins and their chest filled with hope. They shared a house, got a part-time job at Starbucks, cried and laughed together until Mei began to date this guy and Luhan kinda felt like he was just a burden. He started feeling like Korean was too hard for him, the job was too tiring, the food was too spicy, the air too humid and a bunch of other things that made him pack his bags (again) and come back to Beijing. Mei decided to stay and eventually Luhan stopped hearing from her. Until now, that is. 

 

To distract himself, Luhan tidies up his messy room- he changes the sheets, opens the window to inhale the scent of wet cement, gets rid of the elegant suit still on the floor. 

 

Beijing is a big grey blob whenever it rains. Luhan goes out again, this time with a proper set of clothes instead of his Iron Man pajamas, and hold his black umbrella tightly while he’s waiting for the traffic light to turn green. Monday is such a shitty day, he finds himself thinking when cars splash water everywhere and tiny little raindrops fall on his shoes. He stops in front of a flower shop, the one where he usually buys flowers for wedding bouquets, and waves at the granny who’s arranging some fresh roses in front of the shop window. There are some beautiful white peonies on display and they are also on sale, so Luhan keeps that in mind when he finally reaches his office.

 

It’s ten o’clock when _Wishes_ opens up, white lace curtains pulled aside and a nice set of albums arranged on shelves. Luhan tries to keep himself as busy as his job allows, always organizing meetings with clients and contacting other shops to talk about prices, but that e-mail keeps tormenting him in the most painful way and the worst thing is that in his mind, deep deep down, he’s already decided to accept. 

 

Monday is really a shitty day, Luhan decides when the last client leaves right after dinner time, apologetic smile on his face and business card dancing between his fingers. Luhan says he doesn’t really mind, he hopes to meet the man again soon to settle some details down and sends him off with a polite bow. He goes home without his umbrella because a little boy forgot his own and Luhan didn’t want him to catch a cold, which ironically is what happens to him the day after.

 

Tuesday is shitty as well, Luhan complains to Yixing with a runny nose and a burning throat after consuming his daily dose of caffeine. He sneezes and Yixing shakes his head with a sad, small smile.

 

“When will you start caring about yourself?” he asks softly, and Luhan sneezes again, eyes damp. Probably never.

 

Suddenly it’s Friday and the e-mail is still there, in one of those many folders, ready to receive an answer. Luhan promises to himself that he will reply after collecting his bills and some others random envelopes, but as soon as he opens one of them, he realizes he doesn’t have to. There’s a plane ticket for Seoul just for him, and he swears his heart dies a little after noticing that his flight is in two weeks. He takes the little sticky note with a smiley face on it and tears it apart with his own fingers, feeling like he loves his cousin a little less. 

 

Luhan has no choice anymore but to say yes, and in his e-mail he tries his best to sound excited- he’s not, by the way (he hopes the exaggeration of exclamation points will save his ass). Yixing helps him pack because honestly he feels bad for his friend- his miserable aura is even grayer than the cloudy sky that’s been covering Beijing for the past month. Luhan chooses suits and casual clothes, wedding magazines and his planner, his pills for headaches (he has a feeling he will need those even more than once a day) and his albums where he keeps pics of his past works for inspiration. 

 

“I organize weddings and yet I can’t get my own” Luhan mumbles bitterly as his hands fold his fifth white shirt nicely, placing it on top of the others- white shirts are handy and they fit him very well, so he makes sure to have enough of those. He places his razor and his shaving cream inside his little bag too because he doesn’t want to look like a homeless man, but at the same time he really couldn’t care less about anything else than the delicious dinner Yixing promised to treat him to. 

 

“Should I bring the black tie or the navy blue one?” Luhan asks with a very flustered tone and a very loud groan, holding the two ties and wondering where the hell he had put his grey bowtie. His friend looks at him and simply shrugs. “Is there even a difference?” he asks, and Luhan rolls his eyes. Thinking that no one actually gives a fuck about it, Luhan shoves both his ties in a corner of his suitcase and moves forward.

 

Luhan spends the rest of his days between looking at the three suitcases near his door and sighing loudly just like a real drama actor would do, plane ticket staring at him with evil eyes and heart beating heavily in his chest. Eventually it’s the day before the big event and Luhan tries not to cry when his two cats look at him as for saying ‘where are you going?’, but Yixing tells him that he will take care of them like they are his brothers and Luhan doesn’t really know how to feel about that- because Yixing is an only child, after all.

 

—

 

Whoever invented concealer and stuff like that should be considered as a life savior, Luhan decides while he’s literally smearing a spoonful of creamy beige stuff under his dark circles in a poor attempt to make them, well, less dark.

 

“They can’t know you haven’t been sleeping for three days, Luhan” he mutters to himself as the pilot announces they’re about to get there, making him almost drop his whole beauty-case. Luhan tries really hard to ignore how the lady next to him is eyeing him, but it’s not like he has to wait for much longer- as soon as the passengers are free to leave, he launches himself down the stairs and tries not to tear up when his feet can finally stomp on earth. Dirty, steady, hard, beloved earth. 

 

Seoul is apparently a big grey blob whenever it rains, too. Luhan listens as heavy big raindrops dance on a girl’s red umbrella, eyes tired and stomach growling from hunger. Suddenly, maybe because nostalgia is something that will always live with him or perhaps because his tongue is not used to different kinds of coffee, the americano resting on his table tastes like dusty water and he starts to miss Yixing’s magical hands. Luhan stirs his coffee with annoyed movements, eyelids heavy and fingers tapping on the dark wood. He doesn’t like airports, he doesn’t like hearing suitcases being dragged on the linoleum, he doesn’t like listening to the mechanic voice announcing departures and arrivals, he doesn’t like having damp clothes and he doesn’t like the headache that’s pounding loudly in his brain. 

 

He pays (and complains under his breath too, because that americano wasn’t worth a single damn penny) and soon he finds himself sitting on a random bench, three suitcases next to him and anxious gaze fixed on his cellphone screen. Mei is late, obviously, because Luhan’s sure as hell he’s not early. He sends a text to Yixing to assure him his heart is still functioning- Yixing replies with a cute emoji and says that his cats are fine. He’s about to ask his friend another thing when he receives a short text from his cousin, in which she basically says she’s terribly busy so she’s sending her fiancé to collect Luhan instead of her. 

 

Luhan doesn’t even know his face. He types quickly a very passive-aggressive ‘okay’ and shoves the cellphone inside his jeans, eyes now scanning the crowd searching for a sign- anything that could help him find Mei’s soon to be groom, but luck is never on his side. Literally. 

 

It’s ten o’clock in the morning and he feels like one of those children who lost their mother inside a huge supermarket, except that he has no clue what his cousin’s boyfriend looks like. Back when Luhan was a boy, Mei used to date a tall guy named Sehun or something (Luhan remembers his ugly red braces and his funny lisp very well, for many reasons). His cousin, anyway, has always been a very cryptic person. Even in her e-mails, she didn’t even bother to give Luhan details about the ceremony- or about her boyfriend, about her financial situation and about everything else. But Luhan accepted anyway because he’s simply too good for this world. 

 

It’s a quarter past ten and he’s starting to question his life choices. Maybe he should have stayed at home, because honestly he’s a busy man, he has places to see and people to meet, and looking at the raindrops falling down the windows is a big, useless, pathetic waste of time. With a sigh, Luhan fishes out the first wedding magazine he finds from one of his suitcases and starts reading it- not really, he just flips pages randomly just because he needs a way to kill the time. There are a few interesting articles about new styles and trends that Luhan would like to try out, so he takes out his cellphone to take a picture but-

 

“Luhan?”

 

As Luhan lifts his face from the magazine, his eyes instantly meet the most realistic representation of the man of his dreams (all kind of dreams) and suddenly his brain is desperately trying to understand how can someone like that even know his name. Tall, lean, strong, sharp gaze and sharp jaw, designer glasses carefully placed on his thin nose, full pink lips and a wonderful, oh so wonderful deep voice. There’s some sincere disbelief painted on the stranger’s face, a face that Luhan would gladly commit to for the rest of his days. 

 

Luhan can physically feel question marks floating quietly around his own head because damn who the hell is that? 

 

“It’s been a while! Do you remember me?” the man asks again, beautifully shaped eyebrows raised up and a hint of a smile marrying his lips. 

 

“Haha” Luhan finds himself laughing, nodding every now and then just to take some time to think. Luhan doesn’t do one night stands, so that can’t be it. Also that man is pretty much Korean and he has been living in Beijing for probably a decade, so…how did they even meet?

 

The man looks at Luhan with anticipation, waiting for a more satisfying answer than just a short laugh. Which sadly doesn’t come. Luhan remains silent as he feels the awkwardness getting deeper and deeper. He suddenly feels the urge to say something, anything, a bad pun too, just to break the silence.

 

“I’m Sehun, Mei’s boyfriend” the man reveals after a while, smile fading away and fingertips scratching the back of his neck (Luhan bets his neck is cute too, just like the rest of him). 

 

Luhan laughs again, but eventually his eyeballs get two size bigger and he looks at Sehun like he has just grown three heads. Is that really Sehun? The same Sehun that used to wear ugly red braces and had a monobrow? The same Sehun whose backpack was almost taller than him? The same Sehun who would bring two chocolate flavored bubble teas (because evidently one wasn’t enough) to the library every afternoon for this study sessions? 

 

“You’ve changed” Luhan can’t help but stare, fingers playing nervously with the corners of his wedding magazine and a very uncomfortable feeling pooling inside his chest. Suddenly he understands why Mei decided to say yes. 

 

“You haven’t” Sehun replies with a stunning set of white straight teeth, a short laugh under his breath and hands tucked inside his pockets. 

 

Sehun ends up driving Luhan to the hotel Mei booked for him. They don’t talk much, but maybe it’s okay, it’s not like they have much in common anyway. Sehun tells Luhan he’s a writer when the lights turn red and fat, heavy raindrops start to land on the metallic roof. He tells him he write poems, that poetry is something that’s engraved in his bones, and the latter nods with shadows dancing slowly on his face. Sehun mentions his family too, his dogs, his unconditional love for literature and the only thing that stops him from going on is the hotel sign. 

 

“Ah don’t bother with those suitcases! I’ll call you soon! Let’s meet later! Bye!” Luhan yells while dragging his suitcases like they are dead bodies. He runs inside the hotel and leaves Sehun with a waving hand (he almost trips on his own feet but let’s pretend Sehun didn’t see that) and breathes normally only when his old friend’s Audi disappears in the traffic.

 

The check-in is boring and impossibly slow. Luhan’s room, which has soft burgundy walls and a sophisticated painting placed right above his king sized bed, is luminous and it has a nice scent. Luhan kicks off his shoes and falls on the bed, the calming noise of cars flooding his ears and the wrapping paper of a small chocolate praline already dying on the blue moquette. He chews loudly and stares at the ceiling. 

 

It’s almost lunch time- he sends Yixing another message.

 

 **to** : xingxing

_i don’t know if i can do this. sehuns still meis fiance im fucked_

 

Luhan tosses his cellphone somewhere on the bed and closes his eyes. 

 

 **to** : luge

_wait that sehun?? the one you kinda fell in love with when he was still dating your cousin?? the actual reason you came back to beijing?? your first love??_

 

Luhan doesn’t like how detailed Yixing’s text is. He also doesn’t like the fact that this time his best friend can’t actually help him, but most of all he hates how everything seems to hurt ten times more as time passes by. Leaving Sehun (and Seoul along with him too) seemed like the best thing to do at the time. But Luhan sucks at getting over things, or people, or feelings, or anything else. He remembers how he felt when Sehun’s lips were so close to his (before Mei called them for lunch), he remembers how Sehun acted like nothing happened the day after, and he surely remembers the pain he felt when no one accompanied him to the airport that sunny morning in August. He remembers Sehun’s scared voice when he called him, he remembers how the latter said he was just messing around with Luhan (and with his heart too) and he will never forget how bitter his own tears tasted for a whole year. 

 

Isn’t time supposed to heal wounds? 

 

Luhan eats another chocolate praline and he decides he doesn’t like it. It tastes like sadness and tears and regret and dirt. He throws the colorful wrapping paper towards the small bucket under the desk.

 

He misses.

 

—

 

“I didn’t know you were still dating Sehun” Luhan casually says while he’s stirring some honey in his cup of steamy green tea. Mei is sitting right in front of him, sparkling eyes and a cute smile lingering on her red lips as she flips pages of some random wedding magazine. Meeting her after a long time felt weird, lovely but still weird, and Luhan hopes he can organize the wedding in record time so he can pack his bags again and fly back to Beijing. He feels exhausted already.

 

“About that, well, I need to ask you a favor” she hesitates at first, eyes avoiding Luhan’s face. She pours a drop of milk into her cup and takes a sip before talking again. She says she’s so busy these days because of work, so busy that worrying about the wedding is the last thing she wants, so in short Mei asks Luhan to plan the whole thing with Sehun. Like all of this wasn’t enough already. 

 

She also says that Sehun has great taste in pretty much everything, and they both like the same kind of stuff, so she completely trusts him (and she trusts Luhan too because organizing weddings is his job, after all) and Luhan can only agree. They will choose her wedding dress together though, because Mei doesn’t have many friends and she cares a lot about Luhan’s honest opinion (‘honest’ is a big word, he will probably say that every dress looks amazing on her) so Luhan agrees again. 

 

Even though Mei allowed Luhan to work at home, he ends up spending most of his time inside his hotel room. Working alone is easier; he can call whoever he wants, eat whatever he wants, sleep whenever he wants. He works with his laptop resting on his lap and a bunch of pictures and paper sheets and notes scattered on the bed. There’s always a tall americano resting on his bedside table, which is the only thing that reminds him of home. He eats another chocolate praline, the last one, and his opinion hasn’t changed. It still tastes like sadness and tears and regret and dirt, but he eats it anyway because it’s free and freebies are always appreciated.

 

He throws the wrapping paper towards the bucket under the desk, fingers typing quickly on the keyboard and some melted chocolate still on roof of his mouth.

 

He misses again.

 

—

 

Planning a wedding is no joke. As promised, Luhan and Sehun meet on a sunny Saturday morning to discuss the whole thing; they agreed to have breakfast together (Luhan doesn’t mention that leftover Chinese food is his typical idea of breakfast) in a nearby cafè at eight o’clock sharp, which means that Luhan has to set his alarm at six because being late is slowly becoming his speciality.

 

Luhan shows up with his nice and clean white shirt, black skinny jeans and a folder twice his size held tight in his arms. He hopes he’s not late, but even if he is, Sehun greets him with a gentle smile that  makes him lose the conception of time in a flash.

 

The cafè is rather cute; the furniture is made of dark wood, almost vintage, and its walls are cream colored. There are some posters here and there too but honestly who cares, Sehun’s eyes are already scanning the menu and Luhan is trying way too hard not to stare. There’s a cheesy pop song coming from the speakers and the table might be a little too small- Luhan has to put the folders on the floor, which is also where his mood is laying on right now. 

 

After ordering two lattes, Sehun says that he’s happy Luhan accepted to organize the wedding. He also mentions how nervous he was when he didn’t get a reply for a few days, but eventually everything went okay and now he can’t wait for June to come, which ironically is exactly what’s on Luhan’s mind. He can’t wait for June to come because that would mean dragging his ass back to Beijing and whoa, he might party on the plane too. 

 

Luhan plays with some sugar as Sehun’s tender words dance inside his mind. He says he wants to get married in Incheon, on the beach, with warm sand and even warmer waves behind them. Decorations have to be red because Mei loves red and Luhan almost cringes at this because hell, red is his favorite color too. He cringes again when Sehun thinks about choosing everything Luhan likes, from the food to the colors of the napkins, and he’s tempted to ask if the bride is Mei or himself. 

 

“I’m not so sure about floral decorations, though. What do you think?” Sehun asks after an eternity spent talking and talking and talking, latte almost cold and a light in his eyes that Luhan missed like air. Everything seems too familiar and he doesn’t like it at all. 

 

“What about deep red peonies? We could put them here, and here too. White roses might be appropriate, but I would recommend white tulips if you really wanna add a white touch to the bouquet and the centerpiece, otherwise it would be too elegant, and we don’t want that since you’re both still young,” Luhan draws a quick draft of the centerpiece and goes on talking, “you should wear something red as well, since we’re gonna wrap some red ribbons around the chairs on the beach. It would be cute to have a white tulip on the plate of each guest, but I think we need to focus on the wedding invitations first. Let’s get them handmade. Cheaper and more personal.” Luhan replies while writing down some notes, sliding some pictures towards Sehun for reference. 

 

“How did you do that” Sehun manages to whisper, genuinely shocked that Luhan was able to plan the whole thing in five minutes.

 

“It’s my job” Luhan shrugs, not telling him that maybe, just maybe, he still remembers way more little details about Sehun than he would like to. 

 

Just being able to talk like that, face to face, after what seems like a century spent without contacting each other, makes Luhan feel a little bit better than before. Even though his coffee tastes horrible, even though his brain and right hand are literally planning his first love’s wedding, and even though his bride is his cousin, it feels right. It’s eleven o’clock when everything is planned, more or less, and Luhan has got enough material to start contacting flower shops and a good restaurant. He also needs to visit the beach himself, buy fabrics, help Mei choose her wedding dress, go-

 

“Don’t you want to get married someday?” Sehun interrupts his thoughts, still looking at the pictures Luhan showed him some minutes ago. There’s something in his voice that Luhan can’t understand yet, so he decides to ignore it. 

 

“People like me, Sehun,” he says, folding his notes and arranging his crayons afterwards, “they can’t get married in China, or in South Korea. Not yet.” and he honestly doesn’t care if he sounds bitter. He _is_ bitter. He’s sad and bitter and every time he plans a wedding he feels like a small portion of his heart dies. Luhan still wants to make people happy though, because he wants them to have what he can’t have, a beautiful tuxedo and someone to wait for him at the altar. 

 

Sehun is silent. He watches as Luhan smiles- he knows that smile. He knows Luhan so well, and suddenly he understands. He doesn’t say anything about it though, because Luhan never liked talking about himself under that aspect anyway, and simply smiles back.

 

“Honey brown looks pretty on you” Sehun quickly runs his fingers through Luhan’s dyed hair, noticing how comfortable Luhan seems to be even if they haven’t shared such kind of touches in forever. It still feels familiar. It still feels right. But it still hurts.

 

Luhan excuses himself politely because it’s late, he has work to do and weddings don’t organize themselves, so Sehun stands up and offers to accompany him back to the hotel. Luhan declines obviously, already feeling a butterfly flying its way from his stomach to his throat. They say each other goodbye and Luhan throws a dirty tissue into a bucket next to the sidewalk.

 

He misses.

 

— 

 

Days turn into nights, time flies, seconds run by, weeks pass but apparently feelings don’t.  

 

It’s May already. Luhan feels exhausted- emotionally, socially, physically. His hotel room is a total mess but he swears his mind is probably a messier place, so he doesn’t even bother trying to tidy up the chaos that he’s been living in for a month or so. Luhan calls Yixing every single night after dinner, sometimes with soy sauce stains on his t-shirts and some other times with salty tears choking him. He falls asleep with Yixing’s soft voice pressed against his ear and when he wakes up, maybe because learning from his mistakes is not his forte, his thumb brushes against Sehun’s number for minutes. Should he call him? Or send a text? 

 

Sehun ends up calling him everyday anyway. He says he needs to fix some stuff for the wedding but when it’s nine o’clock pm and they are having dinner somewhere near the river, Luhan doesn’t know if he should believe him or not. 

 

Being with him 24/7, every single day of the week, makes everything easier and harder at the same time. Luhan missed Sehun (and he likes to believe that Sehun missed him too) so much, so much that the idea of having to leave him soon makes his heart cry. He doesn’t mind when Sehun calls him at six in the morning just because he can’t fall asleep (so they get coffee together), he doesn’t mind when Sehun sits a little too close next to him on the sofa (or when he feels his arm around his shoulders), hell, he doesn’t even care if Sehun spends more time with him that with Mei. For once in his life, Luhan chooses to be selfish.

 

“I like this, it fits you well” Luhan says the day Sehun decides to try on some tuxedos. It really does fit him well, and Sehun grins widely- just like he used to do when he was a teenager. 

 

“Would you marry me in this?” the question feels like an arrow right into Luhan’s heart, and since he’s a terrible masochist, he pushes the arrow deeper and nods, getting up to fix Sehun’s bowtie with his hands. 

 

“I’d marry this Dolce, but not you” Luhan replies and Sehun playfully hits his shoulder (he buys that suit anyway).

 

They choose flowers- red as blood, fresh as dew. They go to the beach- fingers brushing and hot, salty breeze dancing through their hair. They taste the cake too- Sehun totally doesn’t smear frosting all over Luhan’s face and Luhan totally doesn’t do the same to Sehun. 

 

“I missed you so much” Sehun confesses when Mei is outside with her friends and the sky is midnight blue. They are sitting at the table, unfinished wedding invitations scattered everywhere and gel pens without their caps keeping them company; Luhan smiles comfortably, heart pounding fast and loud in his tiny chest. He replies a classic _i missed you too_ and they get back to work. While Luhan is still trying to figure out how the hell does that stapler work, Sehun grabs a piece of blank paper and starts writing a poem- a poem that’s about love, forgetting and remembering, and if it starts with a capital L, then Luhan doesn’t have to know.

 

It’s four o’clock when they decide to stop- Luhan can’t see straight anymore and Sehun collapses on the sofa, glasses forgotten on the table and tired, deep dark circles marking his face. Coffee didn’t work this time, but both of them finish their cups because wasting is wrong and that coffee brand costed as much as a pair of new shoes. 

 

“About shoes, I hope you can dance well in those ones you bought today” Luhan carelessly mentions as his fingers massage his temples lazily. He can literally feel a headache coming and yet, he’s still there.

 

“Dance?” Sehun repeats. Something clicks inside his head and suddenly the idea of getting married doesn’t sound that good anymore.

 

“Luhan, fuck, I can’t dance” he complains with both the palms of his hands pressed against his face. Luhan laughs because it’s night and everything seems funny at night, but eventually he processes what Sehun just said and realizes he needs to do something about it. 

 

“It’s unacceptable. Get your ass here right now” the Chinese man watches as Sehun crawls to him with heavy feet and heavier shoulders. He tries to teach him the basics- where to put his hands, the rhythm, the number of steps. Sehun’s hands caress Luhan’s hips softly, almost lovingly, and the latter fights the urge to just melt on the spot. It’s okay if at first Sehun stomps on Luhan’s feet. It’s also okay if he messes up the number of steps, because Luhan is patient and keeps humming a song so they can start over. 

 

“Slow dance is a pain in the ass” Sehun breathes against Luhan’s ear, feeling the latter shiver with pleasure. Luhan doesn’t even reply back this time, too busy swaying around with his first love’s arms wrapped around his thin frame. He sighs contently though, too tired to even explain that slow dance is very important because it symbolizes a fresh start for the couple. 

 

“Are you happy for me, Luhan?” Sehun asks, ignoring the fact that they are dancing in the middle of the room at four o’clock in the morning with no music and no proper lights. 

 

Luhan, again, doesn’t reply- he can’t physically reply. He feels Sehun’s warm lips ghosting on his neck and then on his jaw, on his cheek and finally near his own, which tremble in anticipation of a kiss he has been waiting for years. Luhan closes his eyes and holds his breath and-

 

Instead of the taller’s sweet, sweet lips, he feels cold air on his face. He opens his eyes again to see Sehun clearing the table and the last piece of his heart dies, leaving him with a huge, deep and empty hole right in the center of his chest. But again, Sehun is getting married for a reason, right? Who cares about Luhan’s feelings?

 

“I think you should listen to your heart” Luhan replies after a while, and Sehun simply nods.

 

Luhan leaves Sehun’s apartment when the sun is slowly coloring the sky with pink and orange and bright violet. He leaves and when he lets himself fall on that creaky hotel bed, he feels like a part of himself didn’t come with him.

 

He rips apart the wedding invitation sample, the one he worked so hard for, and goes to sleep.

 

—

 

They fight two days after that night. Luhan holds back his tears as his sobs get louder and louder, ears filled with Sehun’s yells and the taller’s hands pressing him against the wall. 

 

Sehun says he’s angry at himself- angry because even though he’s about to marry Mei in less than two weeks, even though he has spent years without seeing Luhan’s face, his feelings just can’t stop haunting him. He says he’s sorry- sorry that he has hurt Luhan, that he has messed everything they almost had, that he can’t fix anything now. 

 

“I was afraid,” Sehun sobs, “I was just a kid. I thought loving you was wrong. Do you think…things were easy for me? Do you think I was happy when you ran away?” 

 

Luhan shakes his head negatively, eyelids pressed together in a poor attempt to stop the river that’s wetting his cheeks and teeth biting his tongue, but then Sehun kisses him hard and nothing makes sense anymore.

 

This time, even if Luhan keeps whispering sad and soft _we shouldn’t_ between kisses, he ends up kissing Sehun back- because he chooses to be selfish (again). And it feels right.

 

“I could write sweet poems on your skin with my lips, if you would let me” Sehun murmurs with fingers tangled in Luhan’s now pitch black hair. 

 

That night, Sehun writes the most beautiful poem he has ever written- on a sheet made of bruised, tender skin and with a pen made of straight, white teeth. 

 

—

 

Luhan ends up leaving Seoul the day before the wedding, suitcases full of little gifs for Yixing and his cats and sunglasses resting on top of his head. He kisses Mei and congratulates her; he says sorry too because he absolutely can’t attend the ceremony but he knows it will be a total success anyway (because he planned it). 

 

He leaves for the airport when Sehun is away because of work and he knows it’s something a coward would do but he really can’t see him at the altar after what they said (and did) to each other. The coffee still tastes like dirt and he still thinks he deserves to die for running away again, but his heart just can’t take it anymore. He turns off his phone just in case Sehun decides to call- he wants to disappear. He came to Seoul to plan a wedding, not to make a couple break up. 

 

Yixing collects him at the airport. He’s all dimples and his smile instantly feels like home. Luhan wraps his arms around his neck and cries right in front of the timetable, not really caring about the weird looks he receives from whoever is around him. He’s happy, he’s finally home, he missed his cats like crazy and he can’t wait to open _Wishes_ on Monday. Yixing makes an americano for Luhan as soon as they reach their little neighborhood and Luhan cries again (only because the coffee is so good but Yixing just _knows_ ). Luhan doesn’t think about tomorrow, or how Sehun’s suit will wrap his body perfectly, or how Mei will cry, or how sweet the cake will be, and maybe even if he does, he doesn’t tell.

 

When he’s home, Luhan rips away the whole page dedicated to June in his planner and tosses it towards the bucket at the end of his bed.

 

He misses.

 

—

 

Monday is such a shitty day. Beijing is a big grey blob whenever it rains, but it’s not that Luhan doesn’t know. He opens his umbrella and waits for the lights to turn green before crossing the street, eyes already looking at the little flower shop he knows so well. He waves at the old lady and she waves back, telling him that red peonies are on sale and that they are even more beautiful than the white ones. Luhan asks her to set some aside- he will buy them later, after work, because his kitchen really needs some color.

 

“Ah young man, these ones are already reserved. I can save some for you tomorrow” the lady apologetically replies, pointing her finger towards the massive bouquet of red peonies on display. 

 

Luhan remains still for a second- it’s the first time that someone buys so many flowers all at once. He nods anyway and keeps on walking until his office appears at the end of the street.

 

 _Wishes_ opens up at ten o’clock in the morning. Everything needs to be cleaned though because dust is a bitch and gets everywhere, but overall Luhan is happy to get back to work. Working helps distracting his mind and distracting his mind helps forgetting and forgetting helps sleeping at night. He turns his computer on, arranges the folders on the shelves, waters his plants. 

 

The little bell on his door tingles but Luhan is way too busy to notice it. He notices the huge bouquet of red peonies on his desk though, and he also notices how Sehun’s hair is dripping water all over the place (Luhan also notices the absence of a ring on Sehun’s left ring finger).

 

“I hope you remember that I don’t know a single word of Mandarin” Sehun says right before slamming a small dictionary on Luhan’s desk, right next to the flowers. Luhan needs a few hour before realizing what the actual fuck is happening because ten minutes ago he was reading a magazine and now he’s staring at the man of his life (the one who was supposed to marry his cousin literally two days ago).

 

“Three times is a charm?” the taller tries again, shivers running down his spine and not because of the frozen water on his bare skin (because Luhan is smiling and Sehun knows that smile).

 

“Three times is a charm” Luhan repeats and Sehun thinks that maybe, just maybe, getting lost four times in Beijing was worth it.


End file.
